


Tamlin's POV: ACOMAF

by acourtofwriters



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Multi, POV Tamlin (ACoTaR), Tamlin Redemption (ACoTaR), The Spring Court (ACoTaR)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:15:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29887182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acourtofwriters/pseuds/acourtofwriters
Summary: An inside look into what was going through Tamlin's mind during A Court of Mist and Fury.
Relationships: Azriel & Cassian & Rhysand (ACoTaR), Elain Archeron & Lucien Vanserra, Elain Archeron/Tamlin, Feyre Archeron & Rhysand, Feyre Archeron/Rhysand, Feyre Archeron/Tamlin, Rhysand/Lucien Vanserra, Rhysand/Tamlin (ACoTaR), Tamlin & Lucien Vanserra, Tamlin (ACoTaR) & Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be entirely written through Tamlin's point of view. There are going to be scenes that aren't in ACOMAF, since in the book we do only see him when he's with Feyre. I've always been so curious as to what's going on in his head, so I decided to take things into my own hands. I understand the grand majority of the fandom don't like him, and that's completely valid. I didn't write this to try and justify his actions, only to try and show that perspective changes everything. So, if you don't like Tamlin and don't want to read about him, then don't! That's fine, but I'm big on respecting everyone's opinions, so no hate please. :)

I was going to be sick.

A nightmare. It was only a nightmare I reminded myself between ragged pants, after I had been ripped from sleep, fear taking over every instinct. Only it wasn't only a nightmare. It had been real, all of it. Feyre had been beaten by Amarantha. The sound of her neck snapping had been real. Rhysand flaunting her infront of everyone, whorls of paint on her near-naked body imprinted with his hands, endangering her purposely, risking Amarantha's wrath to try and make me jealous. The feeling of helplessness to do anything to make it stop. The mydengard wyrm had chased after her. Lucien was strapped down, helpless while hot spikes descended from the sealing—

I lurched out of bed, reaching the toilet just in time as I retched my guts out. I was sweating by the time it had stopped. Claws out, and muscles tense. Running my hands over my face, I savoured the feeling of the cool marble tiles beneath me, so unlike the feeling of the stoned floor that had been under the mountain. 

In times like this, I was grateful I had chosen to sleep in my own bed. To not have to endure the humiliation of her seeing me in such a state. I cringed viciously at the thought.

I had arrived to the manor late tonight, and out of fear of waking her, had chosen to sleep in my room. When I had opened the door to her chambers, as I made sure to do every night—to make sure she was there, whole an unharmed, no threat in sight—only to find her asleep, some part of my heart had sparked to see her look so peaceful. She deserved that peace. Had earned every single ounce of it. And I would make sure she never had to feel that terror again. 

We would move past this together—we would heal together, we would find happiness once again. Rebuild our court and help our people. We deserved to have our happy ending. Our people deserved a happy ending. As did Lucien, who knocked gently on my door after I had stood up.

"Come in." I murmured. 

Lucien opened the door, almost timidly, as if he were uncertain of whether I wanted company. He stepped inside, a hand whooshing over the fireplace until a roaring, warm fire came to life. "Its freezing in here," he said, rubbing his arms. I hadn't noticed. Hadn't been able to notice with my thoughts overwhelming any other sense.

He looked me up and down, concern washing over his features as he plopped onto my bed. "Rough night?" 

I gritted my teeth at the tone—at the sympathy. I didn't need sympathy. I needed to be seen as strong. Because if I didn't... My people might wonder why they should hold hope in their hearts if they're High Lord—the one single being who was supposed to be they're protector, they're symbol of unity and prosperity—looked as if he didn't have any either. 

I nodded looking away, and Lucien had spent so much time with me that I knew he understood. Understood without asking that I didn't want to speak of it aloud. Because if I did... Then Amarantha would still have a hold on us. It was best not to speak of it, to pretend it didn't happen. Because if we pretended for long enough... Then maybe one day we would forget about it.

"It's only been a month, Tam. No one expects you to heal any faster than the rest of us."

"That's exactly what people expect, it's my duty to put everything back into place." It was true, when my father was High Lord, I had never once seen him look weak in front of his people. And although I would probably sprout wings before I became anything like my father, some traditions and expectations just had to be followed. The courts would fall apart if they weren't.

"You're already doing everything you can, establishing new home's, more sentries, visiting villages... It's enough Tam. More than enough." In times like this, I wondered what I had done to deserve a friend like this. 

I sat down next to him, where he was laying sprawled in my bed, hands clasped behind his bed as he stared up at the ceiling. A small smile tugged the corner of my mouth. At how unbothered he was about the fact that he lay in a High Lord's bed, no matter how un-proper it was. Not when even wives weren't meant to sleep in a High Lords room. 

When Lucien dropped the silver-tongued courtier act, when he was completely at ease... It was another thing that sparked something in my heart—not in the way it did with Feyre—but in the way I had been happy when my older brothers had seemed content, forgetting about politics and manipulation. The days were for only a few moments, it had seemed as if they might have loved me.

And after all, Lucien was my brother, ever since we had met as boys at a political manoeuvring disguised as a court ball, all those centuries ago. Our father's had been pleased, they had the same morals, the same twisted, idealistic views, and had always been allies. And as we both grew, in age and in power, when both of us had been thrust into the life of a High Lord's son, we had gone through it together. 

Been there for each other when it mattered. Been there for each other when my father had threatened to have me killed for trying to fight against slavery, claiming I was weak. And what High Lord could possibly want a weak heir? 

Been there for each other when Robyn, Korren and Joash had chased Lucien through the Autumn court lands, having given free rein to kill him when he had cursed his last name and revoked all titles after Jesminda had been killed. When arrows and bursts of flame speared towards him. Blows intended to kill. I had been there when he killed his older brother, and I had killed another, not stopping to think of the consequences, the only thought running through my head being the one that they had hurt Lucien. Unforgivably. 

Been there when he had sobbed uncontrollably into my shoulder, his heart shattered to the winds, guilt a living, breathing thing consuming him. And when I had took him in, claiming him as my own, spending time with him until a glimmer of the person he had been shone through. We were arm-in-arm, and I pleaded to the Mother it would always be that way.

Both of us had been lost in thought, not noticing the comforting quiet that had enveloped the room when Lucien spoke again. 

"I'm here, Tam." He said, his eyes so full of emotion that I couldn't look away. "I'll always be here, and so will Feyre. Neither of us is going anywhere, even when things get hard... We'll always be right beside you." 

His words held more power over me then he would ever know. I knew it might be some time until then, but I was determined to chase after our happy endings. I would do whatever it took to achieve them. And along with those thoughts, I allowed myself to feel something I hadn't felt in a very long time.

Hope.


	2. Chapter 1 of ACOMAF

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whats going through Tamlins mind during ACOMAF chapter 1. Another short one, but its a short scene in the book. Just wanted to peep into his mind during this part if anyone was interested :)

Feyre had climbed out of bed moments ago, bolting towards her bathroom.

I had awaken instantly, I heard her retching, and the instinct to comfort her rocked through me.

But I had been through this too. I knew exactly how she felt, and knew that I wouldn't want Feyre to come anywhere near me when I was in that state. Recalled the other night when I had been vomiting my guts out, and how humiliated—mortified I would have been for anyone to see me like that. And because we had an unspoken agreement: not to speak of it, to do our best to forget about the horrors we had both endured. Because in order to move on from it, we both needed to learn how to do it independently.

The very first night we had finally been home, I had been awoken by a nightmare. Rhysand had sat on Amarantha's throne, had looked at Feyre like she was going to be his next meal. Like he was going to ruin and break her until she knew nothing but him, loved nothing but him. The thought of her with that mind-toying _sadist_ made me see red, and although I would never voice it aloud, it also broke my heart into shards.

I had awoken that night, my skin clammy and tense. I had shook off her touch, and instantly regretted it when I saw the flash of hurt on her face. But... at the time, my heart was still pounding far too broadly, my hands too close to trembling, to want any physical touch. I had shifted into my beast form, and had spent the night alert at the edge of the bed, monitoring the halls, the wall of windows for any threats. Because the thought of anyone taking Feyre away again... it terrified me more then she could know.

And I had wondered that night, if she realized that I had stayed up throughout the night to make sure she could feel safe. I'd spent many nights like that since, hoping she'd find comfort in knowing I was always there, ready to protect her.

After that first night, she hadn't ever woken when I was lurched out of bed by a nightmare, hadn't ever tried to comfort me. Had stayed asleep, and some part of me recoiled at it, but I had taken the hint—that she didn't want me to react either.

I wondered every night what she dreamed of, but hadn't ever had the nerve to ask, afraid that if we spoke of any of it aloud, then it would become real. Perhaps she dreamed of killing those two faeries, perhaps she dreamed of Rhysand, still being able to put her on display as if she were some _harlot_ , his to toy with as he pleased, his to torment—to use to make me feel helpless when I had been unable to save her. A burst of rage flitted through me, consuming my every thought, every instinct to _protect, protect, protect_ rising up. I leashed it viciously as I felt Feyre slip into bed.

She curled into herself, her back towards me. _Message received._ If she didn't want me near her for the time being, if she didn't want any physical touch after Rhysand had done so without her having a say in it, then I would give her as much time as she needed. 

In time, perhaps we would return to the people we had been before this.

Time. That was all we needed. And now that we we're immortal, all we have is time.

The thought eased me, and I fell asleep once again.

An eternity to spend together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big scene coming up next, chapter 2 really set the entirety of the rest book in place, so I'm gonna do my best to do it right. I hope you guys enjoyed! What do you think of this chapter?


	3. Chapter 2 of ACOMAF

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one took a while... but I hope it was worth it!

"I want to go."

"No."

Feyre crossed her arms, spreading her feet slightly further apart on the first floor of the stables. "It's been three months. Nothing happened, and the village isn't even five miles—"

"No." I repeated as I finished buckling the bandolier of daggers across my chest. Behind me, Bron, Hart, Feran, and Lucien waited for me. I strode towards my black stallion, and felt Feyre following close behind me. _Don't push me on this_ I silently urged her. The villages still weren't completely safe, a few of Amarantha's beasts still roamed our lands, and I wasn't sure how Feyre would react if she saw an attor—or any of the other horrid creatures who had tormented her. Was sure I didn't want to find out. It was safer this way, I prayed she understood that I was doing this for her own sake.

And besides, I didn't have the sentries to spare to escort her to villages. I needed every man possible to aid in clearing out Amarantha's filth before I could think about sending a few with Feyre to oversee villages. Once it was certain that no threats remained in The Spring Court, then Feyre and I would travel through the villages. And I would be glad to do it alongside her—but for now, I only hoped she understood. Hoped gave me time to take care of the priorities. But I wouldn't budge on this. I knew what was best for my court.

"The village needs all the help it can get," she continued.

"And we're still hunting down Amarantha's beasts," I said, mounting my horse as I had done thousands of times before. I urged my horse into a walk. "I don't have the sentries to spare to escort you." 

She lunged for the briddle—"I don't need an escort." Her grip tightened on the leather, trying to pull the horse to a stop. The golden ring I had given her flashed in the sunlight. 

It had been two months since I had proposed. Two months since I had told Lucien of my plans and he had beamed with joy, telling me how happy he was for the both of us. Two months since I had brought Feyre to the field I had first kissed her on, dropped to my knee and slipped the golden ring onto her finger—not the ring my father had given my mother upon they're mating and wedding ceremony—that ring had been reserved purely for whichever son of the descendant was first to mate. None of my brothers had mated before their deaths. And so that left me the only one eligible—but Feyre and I hadn't mated. And... Some part of me honestly wasn't sure if we ever would. But I was fine with that. I loved her, and she would be my wife, that was all that mattered. 

Feyre had endured the parties in that quiet way of hers. I often wondered what she thought of these things, if they brought up unwanted memories of her life before her family had lost they're wealth. Although, she seemed content during the ceremonies, and the parties, where I had made various toasts and salutes, thanking everyone for their efforts to rebuild, made speeches on how spring would soon prosper once again. She waltzed through all of it, always smiling, and it never failed to make my heart fill with adoration. 

"Please," she continued, "the recovery efforts are so slow. I could hunt for the villagers, get them food—"

"Its not safe." I said, urging my horse into a walk. "Especially not for you." I reminded her of it every time we argued about this. 

She followed me into the bright, cloudless day beyond the stable, towards the nearby foothills. "People want to come back, they want a place to live—"

“Those same people see you as a blessing—a marker of stability. If something happened to you … ” I cut myself off as I halted my horse at the edge of the dirt path that would take him toward the eastern woods, I made eye contact with Lucien, who now waited a few yards down it. “There’s no point in rebuilding anything if Amarantha’s creatures tear through the lands and destroy it again.”

"The wards are up—"

“Some slipped in before the wards were repaired. Lucien hunted down five naga yesterday.”

She whipped her head toward Lucien, who winced. She looked—afraid as I mentioned the naga. And it only confirmed that I was right. Feyre could barely sleep through the night. If the _word_ naga elicited fear from her—then how could she ever expect me to send her out to hunt them down? She had experienced enough fear already, sending her out into a world that was still _full_ of those monstrous creatures—

No.

No, I wouldn't put her through that again. Wouldn't let her put herself through that again.

I said with as much softness as I could manage, “I can’t do what I need to if I’m worrying about whether you’re safe.”

“Of course I’ll be safe.” 

My mouth tightened. She had just shown me that she would be incapable of facing a naga again. She wouldn't be safe. Not without me. Not until I eliminated every threat out there.

“Please—please just do this for me,” I said, stroking my stallion’s thick neck as he nickered with impatience. The others had already moved their horses into easy canters, Bron and Feran were nearly within the shade of the woods. I had to go.

I jerked my chin toward the alabaster estate looming behind her. “I’m sure there are things to help with around the house. Or you could paint. Try out that new set I gave for you for Winter Solstice.” I had gotten her it in hopes that she might find joy in doing something she had done frequently before we went under the mountain. But... I knew. I knew she hadn't even glanced at the set I had gotten her. I couldn't for the life of me understand why. Maybe she was trying to punish herself... For what I didn't know. Didn't know why she would keep herself from doing something she had loved.

“Fine,” she breathed. She looked me in the eyes and smiled. I smiled back at her. “Be careful,” she said.

“I love you.” I said quietly, and hoped she knew how much I meant it.

She nodded, murmuring it back as I trotted to where Lucien still waited, he was now frowning slightly. My heart had constricted as she had said it.

Constricted, because she sounded as if she were trying to convince herself that it was true.


End file.
